Things I Must Remember At Hogwarts
by dragonsaints
Summary: Emma Jones: a 5th year Gryffindor who loves a good laugh. To her classmates' amusement and her professors' dismay, Emma is constantly up to something.
1. Rules For Emma

**A/N: Hello, I hope you will enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please review, and feel free to mention a chapter you'd like me to write next.** **A few disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter; obviously, or this wouldn't be _fan_ fiction. While I did write some of the Rules, most were found on the internet, however, I did adjust & rephrase quite a few. And finally, readers should note that I am reposting this from my old fanfiction account, because I plan to carry on the storytelling but wanted a fresh start. **

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° _Red_

* * *

1\. No matter how good a fake Australian accent I can do, I will not imitate Steve Irwin during Care of Magical Creatures class.

2\. "I've heard every joke possible about Oliver Wood's name" is not a challenge.

3\. The Giant Squid is not an appropriate date to the Yule Ball.

4\. If a classmate falls asleep, I will not take advantage of that fact and draw a Dark Mark on their arm.

5\. House elves are not acceptable replacements for Bludgers.

6\. Starting a betting pool on the fate of this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is not a clever moneymaking concept. It is tasteless and tacky.

7\. Seamus Finnegan is not "After me Lucky Charms"

8\. I will not reenact _Harry Potter Puppet Pals_ in the Great Hall. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

9\. I will not write all my essays in red ink and claim it is blood.

10\. I will not bring a Magic Eight Ball to Divination class.

11\. I am not allowed to tell Hufflepuffs that Santa Clause isn't real. The same goes for the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.

12\. I am not allowed to steal Professor Flitwick's wand, hold it over my head, and laugh as he tries to reach it.

13\. I am allowed to have a cat, toad, rat, or owl. I am not allowed to have a python, shark, leopard, or piranha.

14\. Remus Lupin does not want a flea collar. Neither do Sirius Black and Professor McGonagall.

15\. I will not kiss Trevor.

16\. I will stop asking the Arithmancy teacher what the square root of negative one is.

17\. Skiving Snackboxes are not a suitable gift for first years.

18\. I am not allowed to sneak into Professor Snape's private chambers and hex his belongings. Nor am I allowed to charm or bewitch his belongings. Quite frankly, I should not be in Professor Snape's private chambers _at all._

19\. I will not mock Dumbledore with exaggerated limb movements.

20\. I am not allowed to draw a smiley face on my arm and tell everyone it's "the new Dark Mark"

21\. Asking "How do you keep a Gryffindor in suspense?" and walking away is only funny the first time.

22\. I will not take out a life insurance policy on Harry Potter.

23\. I will not refer to Umbridge as 'Queen of the Toads', even if she really is.

24\. I will not sweep the Gryffindor common room with Harry Potter's prized Firebolt.

25\. It is wrong to refer to Aragog as "Charlotte".

26\. Professor Flitwick's first name is not Yoda.

27\. I will not refer to hippogriffs as "horseybirds".

28\. I will not borrow a prefect's badge for Peeves.

29\. I am not Defense Against the Boring Classes Professor. Nor am I the Skivination Professor. I am not a Professor, at all.

30\. I will not replace Madame Pomfrey's Skele-Gro with pumpkin juice. I will not replace Professor Snape's pumpkin juice with Skele-Gro. It was not an honest mistake.

31\. I am no longer allowed in the student laundry. Or the teacher laundry.

32\. Nor am I allowed to ever cast an Invisibility charm again.

33\. I am not allowed to eat Chocolate Frogs in Potions class. Even if I brought enough for everyone. Emptying a bag full of them onto Professor Snape's desk to prove this last is an unacceptable behavior.

34\. Peeves may not countermand any of my professors' or prefects' orders.

35\. Chemistry and Potions don't mix. Testing this last is not funny.

36\. The proper way to report to Professor McGonagall is "You wanted to see me, Professor?" not "I have it on good authority that you have no evidence."

37\. If someone's House Badge is green and mine is purple, it means they are in Slytherin. It does not mean "The Sorting Hat thinks they're dumber than me."

38\. Professor Snape does not enjoy being called "Snookums", nor does he respond favorably to "Sev", "Snapey-Poo", or "Debbie"

39\. First years are not to be fed to Fluffy.

40\. Dumbledore is not Santa, he does not wish for me to sit on his knee and demand presents, especially not in June.

41\. A wand is for magic only. It is not for picking noses, playing snooker, or drumming on desks, no matter how bored I become.

42\. I will stop referring to Hufflepuffs as "vampires"

43\. I will not greet Professor McGonagall with "What's new, pussycat?"

44\. My headmaster's name is Albus Dumbledore, not Gandalf.

45\. Novelty or holiday themed ties are not to be worn with my school uniform.

46\. I will not use my socks to make hand puppets of the Slytherin House mascot.

47\. There is no "Bring a Muggle to school" day and I should stop insisting that there is.

48\. I should not ask Professor McGonagall if she has ever coughed up a hair ball while in cat form.

49\. I am not to conjure the words "DRINK ME" onto the vial of any potion in Snape's classroom.

50\. Should I chance to see a Death Eater wearing a white mask, I should not start singing anything from the Phantom of the Opera.

51\. I will not say the phrase "Dude, get a life" to Lord Voldemort.

52\. I will not put books of Muggle fairy tales in the history section of the library.

53\. I will not greet Professor Lupin with "Nice Doggy"

54\. I will not ask Professor Sprout where her Jolly Green Giant is.

55\. There is not now, nor has there ever been, nor ever will there be a fifth House at Hogwarts, and I am not a member of it, nor am I its founder.

56\. When applying for a post at the Ministry of Magic after graduation, it is not advised to put "Lord Voldemort" as my greatest influence at Hogwarts. It is probably not best to put "Fred and George Weasley" either.

57\. I must not refer to the Accio charm as "the Force"

58\. Albus Dumbledore's proper title is "Headmaster", not "My Liege".

59\. I will not send Professor Snape toothpaste, soap, or shampoo for Christmas.

60\. I will not tell Professor Trelawney that I had a vision of her killing the Dark Lord.

61\. I really shouldn't sneak up behind Hagrid and yell "Surprise!" when he is carrying a Christmas tree to the Great Hall.

62\. I will not refer to Professor McGonagall as "Catwoman", no matter how funny she would look in tight leather.

63\. I must not dye the Death Eater's robes pink.

64\. Calling the Ghostbusters is a cruel joke to play on the resident ghosts and poltergeists.

65\. Taking red paint and writing creepy messages on walls is not funny either.

66\. I must stop referring to the Professors by embarrassing nicknames they acquired in their schooldays.

67\. I must not substitute, alter, hide, or otherwise tamper with Professor Dumbledore's candy.

68\. Ravenclaws do not find a sign saying "The library has been closed for an indefinite period of time" amusing in any sense. Neither does Hermione.

69\. Mad-Eye Moody knows his eye is creepy. He does not need to be told…again.

70\. Umbridge will not melt if water is poured over her, so I can stop trying.

71\. I will not levitate everywhere in a big pink bubble.

72\. My professors have neither the time _nor inclination_ to hear what I would do with six boxes of Sugar Quills.

73\. No part of the school uniform is edible, and I must not make it so.

74\. I am not allowed to use Silencing charms on my professors. I am not allowed to use Silencing charms on my prefects. I am not allowed to use Silencing Charms, period.

75\. I may not offer to sell Hagrid new creatures. Especially if I actually have them.

76\. If the thought of a spell makes me giggle for more than 15 seconds, I am to assume that I may not use it.

77\. I may not charm the words "Ferret Boy" onto Draco Malfoy's forehead.

78\. Singing "99 Bottles of Potion" nonstop will result in detention.

79\. I must not dare first years to eat bugs because they will always do it.

80\. I will not test my Potions assignments by spiking Snape's drink with them. Especially not all of them at once.

81\. Luna Lovegood does not have pointed ears, nor is she to be addressed as "Galadriel". Lucius Malfoy also does not have pointed ears, nor is he to be addressed as "Haldir". Severus Snape most definitely does not have pointed ears, and under no circumstance is he to be addressed as "Spock"

82\. I am not to sing "We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz" when sent to see the headmaster's office. I am definitely not to sing it when accompanied by house elves. _Especially if they have kazoos._

83\. I am not to hold my wand in the air before casting spells and shout "I GOT THE POWER!"

84\. I will not commit crimes and then say I was under the Imperious curse.

85\. I will not insult people and later claim to have been given Veritaserum. I also will not give people Veritaserum.

86\. I am not the reincarnation of Merlin.

87\. Seamus Finnegan does not have a pot of gold under his bed. He does not have a pot of gold at all. I must not spend my free time searching for it.

88\. I will not attempt to make Professor Trelawney's predictions come true.

89\. Shouting random Latin phrases while waving my wand is not acceptable charms research.

90\. I will not use the Marauder's Map for stalking purposes.

91\. The fact that there are three Unforgiveable Curses does not mean that every other curse is "pretty much forgivable".

92\. I will not, under any circumstances, ask Harry Potter who died and made him boss.

93\. I am not allowed to introduce Peeves to paintballing.

94\. Headmaster Dumbledore is of no relation to Willy Wonka.

95\. I cannot be a Heffalump animagus.

96\. Professor Snape's proper given name is not "Princess Cutesy Glimmer McSparkles Chocolate" and I should not refer to him as such.

97\. If I even look like I might sing "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves!" I will be Obliviated.

98\. I am not to tell Muggle-born first years that Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans taste better when one eats a whole handful simultaneously.

99\. No matter how vast the uses and entertaining the results, I will not indulge in fun with duct tape. This goes double for superglue.

100\. Nearly headless Nick does not approve of being called Casper the Friendly Ghost. Neither does the Bloody Baron.

101\. It is a bad idea to tell Professor Snape he takes himself too seriously. It is a bad idea to tell Professor McGonagall she takes herself too seriously

102\. I do not have a Dalek Patronus.

103\. "42″ is not the answer to every question to the O.W.L.'s

104\. First-years should not be encouraged to befriend the Whomping Willow. Or build a treefort therein.

105\. I will not use Slytherin and Gryffindor first years as Christmas decorations

106\. If asked in class what the Avada Kedavra curse does, yelling "It does DEATH!" may be correct but it is not the manner in which one should answer.

107\. I am not allowed out of my dorm when visitors from the Ministry are here.

108\. I am not authorized to negotiate a peace treaty with Voldemort.

109\. I will not follow potions instructions in reverse order just to see what happens.

110\. I am not allowed to refer to Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley as Blossom, Buttercup, and Bubbles.

111\. I will not sing The Badger Song during Hufflepuff-Slytherin Quidditch matches.

112\. I will not douse Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak with lemon juice to see if he will become visible wearing it and standing near the fire in the common room.

113\. Bringing fortune cookies to Divination class does not count for extra credit.

114\. My name is not "The Dark Lord Happy-Pants" and I am not allowed to sign my papers as such.

115\. I am not allowed to make lightsaber sound with my wand.

116\. I will not dress up as Voldemort for Halloween.

117\. I will not wear my DEATH EATER AND PROUD OF IT! shirt to school.

118\. I am not allowed to reenact famous battles of the Revolutionary War in the charms corridor.

119\. I am not allowed to declare an "official" Hug A Slytherin Day.

120\. I am not allowed to introduce myself to the first years as "Tim the Enchanter".

121\. I am not _Xena: Warrior Princess_ and I shall not use war cries to signal my entrance into any classroom.

122\. I will not steal Gryffindor's sword from Dumbledore's office and use it to patrol the hallways.

123\. I am not allowed to sing my own personal spy music while wandering the hallways.

124\. I am not allowed to begin each Herbology class by singing the theme song to "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes".

125\. I am not allowed to paint the house elves blue.

126\. I will not dress up in a Dementor suit and use a Dustbuster on Harry's lips to get him to do what I want.

127\. I will not start food fights in the Great Hall.

128\. I will not scare the Arithmancy students with my Calculus book.

129\. "To conquer the earth with an army of flying monkeys" is not an appropriate career choice, even for a witch.

130\. It is not necessary to yell "Burn!" everytime Snape takes points from Gryffindor.

131\. I am not the King of the Potato People and I do not have a flying carpet.

132\. Crucifixes do not ward off Slytherins, and I should not test that.

133\. Neville is not my valet.

134\. I am not allowed to ink my owl's feet, have it walk across a parchment, and sell the result as cheat sheets for Ancient Runes. The fact that Crabbe and Goyle keep falling for it does not make it okay.

135\. I will no longer wear a hood, walk up to Harry, and claim to be his real father.

136\. Sending rings to the nine senior faculty at Yuletide, with the return address "Voldemort", is not funny.

137\. Despite popular belief, Hufflepuffs are not soft and squishy. Do not treat them as such.

138\. I will stop sending Professor Snape forged love notes that appear to be from Professor Lupin.

139\. I am not allowed to scare the first-years by screaming "I'm melting! I'm meeeeeeeeeeeltiiing!" while they are in the showers.

140\. I am not allowed to say "Bless you" every time someone mentions Quidditch.

141\. There is no such thing as the "Hufflepuff Marshmallow Man" and I will no longer support my claims by conjuring semi-sentient marshmallows.

142\. I _shall not_ sing "Baby Got Back" when Firenze walks by.

143\. Regardless of the beautiful irony, I will not hang a tempting piñata from the Whomping Willow.

144\. The song "Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead" is never, ever appropriate; even in reference to Professor Umbridge.

145\. I am not allowed to ask Pureblood students things like, "If your parents got divorced, would they still be brother and sister?"

146\. I will not attempt to graft a transplant from the Whomping Willow onto the Hogwarts Christmas Tree in Herbology class.

147\. I will stop pasting happy face stickers on Lupin's office door.

148\. I do not get any flying monkeys when I graduate.

149\. Every time I see a dementor, I will not imitate Ring Wraiths. Every time I see Dobby I will not imitate Gollum. Every time I see Dumbledore, I will not say, "You will not pass!" Frankly, I should stop making references to Lord of the Rings, no matter how clever.

150\. The boggart's first name is not Humphrey.

151\. "Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo" is not a transfiguration spell.

152\. I will not add 'according to the prophecy' at the end of my sentences to raise my Divination grade.

153\. "Oo ee, oo ah ah, ting tang, walla walla bing bang" is not an actual spell.

154\. I'm not allowed to dress exactly like Snape and ask him to call me "mini me."

155\. There is no Interpretive Dance course offered at Hogwarts, and I should stop signing up for it every year.

156\. I will not try to make a new basilisk for the Chamber of Secrets.

157\. Professor Lupin is not addicted to chocolate and I will stop implying that he is.

158\. Murmuring "I see dead people… " every time I see one of the ghosts is stupid and was never funny.

159\. Making a slinky go from the top of the astronomy tower to the ground level is not an appropriate pastime. Especially while singing "everyone loves a slinky". Especially while singing "everyone loves a slinky" until the slinky hits the bottom. Especially while singing "everyone loves a slinky" until the slinky hits the bottom and starting the whole process over again whenever the slinky gets stuck. (Apparently, not everyone loves a slinky.)

160\. Yelling "to infinity, and BEYOND!" was only funny the first time I took off on my broom.

161\. I should not remark that "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" when Snape gets angry. Ever.

162\. Yes, the Great Hall is extremely large, but Quidditch is an outside sport.

163\. Adding "-us" to the end of a word does not make it a spell. Neither does adding "izzle".

164\. Shouting "beam me up Scotty" before disapparating isn't that amusing.

165\. My "quill-flourish-note-taking-dance" is really unnecessary.


	2. Rule 15

**#15: I will not kiss Trevor.**

* * *

I snickered quietly as shouts of _"Trevor!"_ , _"TREVOR!"_ , _"Trevor, where have you got to now?"_ , and _"WHERE IS THAT DAMN TOAD?"_ echoed through the halls. It was one of our regular Trevor-hunts, marshalled and carried out by Neville Longbottom and whoever was bored enough to run through the school searching for the elusive amphibian. It was entertaining to see who would find Trevor and where he'd turn up. Sometimes I joined in, but mostly only when I stumbled upon the little thing and decided to hide him to prolong Neville's hilarious agony.

Today was different.

Today, I decided it would be amusing to actually join in the screaming and searching.

So after a few first years went charging past me yelling "Trevor", I started hysterically yelling, " _I SHALL SAVE YOU, MY LOVE!_ " and running around looking for that damned scape-toad. The first years turned around in a mixture of disgust and worry and curiousity and shock to look at me. Then they slowly followed me down the corridor.

I went along screaming "TREVOR, MY DEAR, I'M COMING FOR YOU!", and as I ran, the other searchers followed me. I felt rather like the Pied Piper. It was quite humorous.

The other shouts died down. I still hadn't found the toad. I slid to a stop as I ran into the Great Hall. McGonagall and a few other teachers were standing, furious, in my path. It's Saturday evening and I don't think they appreciate the ruckus. "Jones."

"Professors."

"Shut the hell up, Jones."

"But, Professor-"

"I don't want to hear it, Jones! Go back to your dormitory. Now."

Suddenly, I got immensly lucky. Neville Longbottom walked in, holding his precious toad tight. Without stopping to think, I darted around the professors and grabbed the ugly little thing. I'm not talking about Neville. I didn't give myself a chance to consider what I was about to do and I planted my lips on the top of that disgusting toad's head. "Oh, Trevor, my love, come back!" I cried as I pulled back. His skin was cold and wet and I'd regret the kiss if it wasn't so damn funny.

The professors had been watching the whole display, along with the students who had followed me. The students burst into laughter, gasping for breath and holding each other for support. The professors weren't as amused.

"EMMA JONES! GIVE NEVILLE HIS TOAD AND GO TO YOUR DORMITORY NOW!" McGonagall shouted.

Smirking, I handed Neville his pet and slowly walked past my fuming professor. As I walked through the still-laughing crowd of students, lots patted my back and tried to compliment me, but could barely get out a syllable through their laughs. This battle must be considered won.


	3. Rule 9

**#9: I will not write all my essays in red ink and claim it's blood.**

* * *

"You are dismissed." Professor McGonagall said, and everyone stood up and rushed for the door. I was almost out of the room when McGonagall called my name. "Emma Jones, I need to speak with you."

People snickered and I shot them my classic _you'll-hear-about-this-later-trust-me-it's hilarious_ look. McGonagall cleared her throat and I turned back to her. "What'd I do this time?" I asked innocently. _Hah._

She didn't laugh. She held up my essay, the one we turned in today on the theory and ethics of transfiguring cats to jammie dodgers. That wasn't the assigned topic, but it is much more entertaining to write about. Trust me. "What is this? Explain, Jones." She said, gesturing to my parchment.

"Well, I decided this topic was much more relevant to what we've been learning and what we'll need to know when we're older. Because if you are having company over and forgot to get the desserts, you should have a plan. But how does the cat feel about becoming snacks? And do your guests approve of eating your pet? I answered those questions and more in my essay. I'm sure it will do." I said seriously. "Does that answer your question?"

"No. I asked what this is." She said, motioning to the words on my parchment.

"Oh, I see. You want to know why the wording is red."

"Yes. Explain, Jones, or points will be taken."

"Well…" I said cautiously. "Are you sure you want to know?" She made an impatiently angry sound. "Right then. I _would_ tell you it's jam…but that wouldn't be true."

"Spit it out Jones."

"It's blood, Professor."

"Stop playing with me. This is unacceptable. Other professors have complained to me about you and your jokes, and from now on, we aren't going to be as soft with you. Ten points from Gryffindor-" I opened my mouth to protest but she shushed me. "-one point for each of the essays you've turned in written in red ink. I'm also confiscating your _supply_ of red ink. Hand it over."

 _This means war_ , I thought, handing her my ink with an innocent smile. "Sorry Professor. It won't happen again."

"It had better not, Jones." She said as I left.

Oh it won't. But that doesn't stop me from managing to get into more mischief.


	4. Rule 6

**#6: Starting a betting pool on the fate of this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is not a 'clever moneymaking scheme'.**

* * *

In one of the darker corners of the castle, in an alcove meant for studying and used for snogging, my latest scheme has been taking off extraordinarily well.

I've set up betting boards, advertised under the guise of a research project for arithmancy (a class I'm not even taking, funnily enough), and within just a few hours I've already collected nearly twenty five galleons - mostly in knuts, mind you. Everyone from Ravenclaws aiming to outwit my system, Gryffindors betting big on good ol' Potter saving the day, to brave Hufflepuffs have been stopping by; even little firsties desperately hoping to turn a profit on their remaining Sickles so they can stretch them out over the rest of term. And a few Slytherins - though they try to seem disinterested - have taken a morbid amount of amusement in the outrageous fates I've imagined for our dear DADA professor. (I've had to turn a few pureblooded pricks away who wanted to place _galleons_ on the most horrific of deaths. I figured, since their parents are likely Death Eaters, they could have an unfair advantage.) While I had seen the untapped potential, I had no way of knowing just how ready to gamble my fellow students would be. Perhaps I should host a casino night sometime.

"JONES!" I hear my name called. Cue my Head of House.

"Yes, Professor?" I asked as McGonagall approaches. I can tell someone has already spilled the every-flavoured beans, so there's no point in attempting a ruse. Other students who have been milling about notice as well and start to scatter, leaving me alone with a very angry adult. "Are you here to place your bet?"

"No, Jones, I am here to disband your betting pool and punish all the participants. Hand over the money and I may be lenient." She said impatiently.

"But, Professor-" I started but she cut me off. "NO BUTS! Ten points-"

I cut her off in return. "-from Gryffindor for my clever moneymaking concept? That hardly seems fair!"

She looked ready to kill. "Taking bets on how the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will meet his demise is tasteless and tacky. NOT CLEVER!" she shouted, grabbing my money box and storming off. It seems she's forgotten to give me detention, and _I'm_ not about to remind her.


	5. Rule 40

**#40: Dumbledore is not Santa, and he does not wish for me to sit on his knee and demand presents. Especially not in June.**

* * *

Lee, George, Fred and I walked into the Great Hall for breakfast when an idea popped into my brilliant mind. I stopped the lads and whispered my plan. Lee took my bookbag and the boys all grinned in expectance for my little performance.

"SANTA!" I shouted, running up to the professors' table. That caught everyone's attention. McGonagall's face said, "It is too early for this." That alone made it worth any effort.

Dumbledore was sitting in his usual seat in the center of the table, which meant I had to run behind a few other teachers before I got to the Headmaster. I climbed upon his lap and started listing off what I wanted for Christmas. "I want sugar quills and chocolate frogs and a pet dragon and a set of Wizard Chess and a new owl cause mine is rubbish…" Nearly everyone in the Great Hall was laughing, hard…except for the professors. "…and maybe some Dungbombs…"

"That's enough, Jones." McGonagall said wearily. "Go sit down please."

"But I'm telling Santa what I want for Christmas!"

"It's June."

"I've quite a long list, he might need the extra time to prepare."

"It's _June_ " she repeated, exhausted. "and that's your Headmaster, not someone from Muggle myth."

"Well, he sort of _is_ from Muggle myth, aren't we all? Isn't _magic_ a Muggle myth?"

"Please find a seat at Gryffindor table, Miss Jones."

I could tell she was groggily contemplating just how long I should get detention, and since I didn't want to be stuck cleaning chimneys until Christmas, I relented. I smiled sweetly at Dumbledore, and I swear he winked at me, but he kept his face straight anyway. Then I hopped up and bounced my way back down to where my boys were waiting, laughing with the rest of the school.


	6. Rule 59

**#59: I must not send Professor Snape toothpaste, soap, shampoo, or any other hygiene product for Christmas. It is rude and hurtful.**

* * *

Me and the boys were opening our presents in the Great Hall at breakfast Christmas. A few of the other students that stay for the holiday were there; also participating in the festivities was our dear headmaster.

Fred and George got their traditional sweaters from their mother, and Lee and I were pleased to find dear Mrs. Weasley had made us each a sweater too. Mine is dark blue with a big white letter 'E' and I love it. We all put them on immediately, and of course the twins switched theirs. Then we proceeded to enjoy our meal and a few of the magical cracker things that I love so very much. Mine had a little blue plush dragon that was enchanted to fly around. Gred and Forge, ahem, that is to say, George and Fred, got lucky with enough Sugar Quills for the rest of term. And Lee got a new set of Gobstones, which he very much needed. We finished eating and opened the rest of our presents, a few from classmates, but mostly from each other. I gave Lee a new scarf, and the twins each a pair of gloves for Quidditch, all of which I made myself. Okay, so maybe some magic was involved, but I'm still better than dear ol' Hermione…honestly that girl needs a different hobby. Lee got the twins Dungbombs, which is a classic present, but still appreciated. And they got him socks. There had to be at least 15 pairs. Some were plain and practical but others were so outrageous I couldn't help snickering. He thanked them profusely, and we all had a good laugh, and then they gave me their presents. The twins got me a box of Chocolate Frogs, and Lee gave me his old set of Wizard Chess and a scrapbook he barely started of some of the pranks we've done recently. The boys and I read through it and promised to keep going with it and had a good laugh at the memories and Lee's less than stellar art skills. But the best laugh was still to come.

Snape, Flitwick, Sprout, McGonagall and a few other teachers came walking in and sat down. It was their usual time for breakfast- me and the boys had gotten there especially early today. Each of them carried a few packages, but Snape carried the most. That alone made me smile but I hid it quickly as the professors walked past. Didn't want to ruin the fun too early.

They sat down and ate their breakfast. As they each finished, they started opening their presents like they always do: slowly, trying to feint politely interested disinterest, but in reality extremely excited to see what they got this year.

Snape's face went from his Christmas not-quite-a-scowl to his normal life-is-awful scowl to his I-will-murder-someone scowl to his rather rare I-will-murder-someone-slowly-and-painfully-and-make-it-look-like-an-unfortunate-accident scowl as he opened each present. Somehow Dumbledore noticed and asked, probably louder than he meant, "What do you have there, Severus?"

As the attention of the Hall turned to the professor's table, Snape didn't say anything. That only prompted the Headmaster to take a closer look. Again louder than he should have, he listed off a few of the objects in Snape's pile, "Magic Sparkle Shampoo, Freshest Mint toothpaste, Old Spice soap…"

Those first three words were all the students needed to crack up, and the rest of the list just intensified the effect. Snape stood up and stalked out of the Hall. As he passed our table, he glared at the progeny of a certain old nemesis of his. Both his complete lack of blame for me and Mr. Potter's utter confusion left me crying in laughter, leaning on Lee for support though he and the twins were giggling nearly as hard as I. This would have to go in the scrapbook.


	7. Rule 20

**#20: I am not allowed to draw a smiley face on my arm and tell everyone "It's the new Dark Mark".**

* * *

"George, give me your arm." I said. He obliged. I drew a big smiley face on the inside, just below his wrist. "Fred." I repeated the process. "Lee."

When I'd drawn it on Lee's arm, he asked, "What are we up to this time?"

I smiled and showed him the smiley face on my arm. "It's the new Dark Mark." The boys and I shared our mischievous (the professors would say sinister) grins, and then we went separate ways, marking anyone wise (the professors would say foolish) enough to give us their arm. If anyone asked, all we told them was, "It's the new Dark Mark" in our most serious (everyone would say creepiest) tones.

Ah, the unity we fostered in the castle that day. The glorious camaraderie! Knowing looks shared between members of _all four_ houses - yes, we even recruited some Slythies - from firsties to seventh years, the whole student body was closer than we had been in living memory. A single force, united by our secret, brought together in an Order to rival that of the Phoenix!

By lunch, you couldn't walk five feet without catching a glimpse of our symbol on someone's arm, yet somehow, the professors didn't notice till lunch. Me and the boys were sitting together as usual, gloating in our apparent success, but also planning for our inevitable confrontation with the professors.

Quite right, too. Snape came up behind me and took the scruff of my robes in one hand while he grabbed my left arm and revealed my smiley face. "What... _is_...this?" he asked in his 'intimidating' drawl.

"The new Dark Mark." I replied matter-of-factly. "Do you want one?" I reach for his arm, which he whips away suspiciously quickly.

"No." he said, 'threateningly'. "It isn't funny. Death Eaters are a real threat and it does not do to imitate them."

"Oh, but we aren't being Death _Eaters_." I said, as if it were obvious. "We're Joy Vomiters." I finished loudly. The boys all snorted, and Fred spewed pumpkin juice.

"Ten points from Gryffindor. And five more for each Gryffindor I see with this" he gestured to my Mark "on their arm." He released my arm and gave me a shake before letting go of my robes. I tried to keep a straight face while he walked away, but as soon as he was a safe distance away I snorted just like the boys had and we had a quiet laugh.


	8. Rule 93

**#93: I am not allowed to introduce Peeves to paintballing.**

* * *

pfft. SPLAT. pfft. SPLAT. pfft. RAIR! "PEEVES!" Filch's voice screeched only a few corridors away. I sniggered and kept walking away. "WHAT IS THIS?"

"Muggle smuggle, Muggle smuggle, Peeves pleased!" Peeves singsonged, and with the last word I could hear the colorful missiles he let loose. pfft. SPLAT. pfft, pfft, pffft. SPLATSPLATSPLAT.

I walked faster. Even if it was necessary to teach Peeves one of my favorite sports, I probably should try not to lose any more points- "-FROM GRYFFINDOR!" Boggart boogies.

Filch and McGonagall stormed up to me. "Hello, Professor, Filch." I said sweetly as I could. "Have a nice day." I turned around and hurried down the hall. I had almost made it to my classroom when dear old Mrs. Norris staggered out in front of me. She was coated in various colors and looked very..ah..damaged. Filch sucked in his breath and I could tell that if he weren't a Squib he'd use all three unforgivable curses twice on me then and there.

"Jones. I know you're the one who gave Peeves that device." McGonagall said. I opened my mouth but she kept talking. "It's obviously a Muggle instrument and none of the other Muggle-borns or half bloods here are infuriating enough to show it to Peeves."

"The word you lack is paintball gun. And it is quite a brilliant invention if you ask me. I mean look, you can even use it to create art." I said, gesturing to the cat at my feet, who was swaying dangerously and looked ready to keel over. Filch leapt forward and scooped up his precious feline. He was muttering under his breath and though I couldn't hear what he was saying, I imagined him sounding a lot like Gollum, 'my pressssshhous', or more likely, thinking aloud about all the punishments he'd like me to endure.

"It is highly inappropriate to introduce Peeves to paintball." McGonagall said, spitting out the last word. "You'll be cleaning the paint from the corridors and Mrs. Norris-" at Filch's gasp of horror, she changed her mind "-ah, the corridors, for detention. Starting at 6 o'clock tonight."

"Are you quite finished, Professor?" I asked.

"Yes."

"So no more punishments for this incident?"

"Yes." She said, exasperated and wanting to be finished.

"So I can't be punished for saying, DAMN PEEVES, HELL OF A JOB." The caretaker's face was priceless, and Peeves zoomed in. "Keep up the good work, mate." he winked at me and I winked back, then he zoomed off and McGonagall grabbed my robes and dragged me into my classroom and shoved me down in my seat. "Good day, Professor." I smirked, as she stormed off.


	9. Rule 18

**#18: I am not allowed to sneak into Professor Snape's private chambers and hex his belongings. Nor am I allowed to charm his belongings. Quite frankly, I should not be in Professor Snape's private chambers at all.**

* * *

"Emma! What are you doing?" Lee said in surprise when he saw me dashing down the corridor. I didn't have time to slow down and ran straight into him, knocking myself off balance. He caught me so I didn't fall, but I didn't have time to stop. I grabbed his arm and dragged him along after me, saying "No time to explain, you'll probably figure it out soon enough." Breathlessly. He didn't question me, which is probably best in this sort of situation, and simply followed at a run.

We turned a corner and I pulled him up against the wall to catch my breath. We stood, breathing hard, for a few minutes before Professor Snape came around the opposite end of the hall, heading toward his private chambers. His robes flowed behind him, dramatically as always, and I hoped he didn't notice Lee and I as he walked past us. It seemed he hadn't, and I breathed a sigh of relief when he was safely past us.

Lee looked at me, then closed his eyes. "What did you do and what did Snape have to do with it?" he asked, resigned to my prank, whatever it was.

"I may have snuck into his private chambers…" I started, and Lee sighed. "…and bewitched his stuff…"

Lee turned to me and smiled. "You naughty, naughty girl." Then I heard the unmistakable sound of an angry professor running through the hall. Had to be Snape. Without a word, I grabbed Lee's hand and started running again.

We ran, but Snape's footsteps seemed right behind us. I pulled back against a wall and Lee did the same, just as Snape turned the corner. He saw us and glared. "You." He spat.

"Hello Professor." I said, still winded.

"Why are you out of breath, Jones? Would it happen that you were running?"

"Snogging!" I gasped, surprising all three of us with my quick excuse.

"Snogging?" Snape and Lee said in unison. Lee realized his mistake too late, and Snape grinned maniacally, a rare sight.

"Liar." He said, too singsong for…him.

I gulped. "Maybe?" Snape opened his mouth to reply just as –my luck- McGonagall entered the hallway.

"Then answer me this, Jones- Why did I find my private chambers in all sorts of disarray, my bed floating upside down near the ceiling and all my robes dancing of their own accord…why, Jones?"

"How should I know?" was the wrong choice of words, apparently.

"You do know, because you snuck into my private chambers and hexed my belongings!" He accused, looking to McGonagall for support.

"I did not! I never hexed anything!" I protested.

McGonagall sighed. Snape fumed. "Then you charmed them, you admit!"

"I didn't charm them. I bewitched them. Difference." I replied, seeing there was no way to completely talk my way out.

"You musn't charm, hex, or bewitch any professor's belongings!" he shouted.

"Severus, if I may?" McGonagall interrupted. "Emma Jones. You shouldn't sneak into a professor's private chambers for any reason, much less to mess with their personal items. Twenty points from Gryffindor and don't let it happen again."

"Yes, Professor," I said, tugging on Lee's sleeve. He took the hint and we both picked our way around the angry adults, and walked quickly down the hall.

When we were a decent distance away, Lee leaned down and whispered, "Snogging?"

I shoved him, blushing. "Oi, shut it." He just grinned.


	10. Rule 51

**#51: I will not say the phrase, "Dude, get a life" to Lord Voldemort.**

* * *

Oh hippogriff muck. That's hexing You-Know-Who.

I'm cursed.

"Emma Rae Jones." The evil voice of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named chilled me. He floated toward me, arms open, head cocked to one side thoughtfully. "So glad you could join us. We needed a Mudblood to complete the ceremony."

"C-ceremony?" I stuttered.

"Yes. I want cupcakes." He said. Oh-kaay?

"C-cupcakes." I agreed.

"And I want to SHAAARREEEEE!" he sqealed, spinning around.

"Sh-share."

"I'm told sharing is a most wonderful experience." He continued, throwing in a few ballerina leaps for good measure.

"E-experience."

He stopped. "You can stop copying now."

"Thanks." Weird. "So, Dark Lord-you're acting a little…lighthearted..."

He turned on me with the creepiest smile. "Harry…Harry Potter…I must kill Harry Potter…Kill Potter…"

"Dude, get a life." I said to Lord Voldemort.

"I AM AVOIWEMOAEIVNAOFGAHOIESDDDF AVADA KEDAVARA" he screamed, his wand suddenly appearing in his hand and shooting green light at me.

I woke up with a start. It wasn't real. I sighed. Hopefully in real life I'll be able to control my mouth. Promising myself I'd never say that phrase to Voldemort if I ever had the misfortune to meet him, I fell back asleep.


	11. Rule 63

**#63: I must not dye the Death Eaters' robes pink.**

* * *

How the hell did I get access to the Death Eater's robes? Stroke of genius, that's what, I think, tipping a small vial into the soapy water. The house elves come in a minute later, carrying the dirty robes of various Death Eaters, and they throw their loads into the washing vat.

I suppose I should explain. I've got a job at Malfoy Manor for the hols. My Muggles are visiting my boring old great-aunt, and I elected to avoid the misfortune of being stuck in Cardiff for two weeks. Instead, I asked around for any Wizarding families that could take me- but the Weasleys and Jordans weren't going home, and all the Hufflepuffs are mad at me still, and Ravenclaw is still burning furious over my last prank, so I didn't have many options. Then I heard that git Draco bragging about all the visitors that would be spending the hols with his family. Then he noticed me, and by way of flirting (though he'd never admit it, as I'm a Mudblood), he asked me if I needed a job. And I said sure.

So here I am, working in the Malfoys' dungeons. I hastily hide the vial in my robes, shoving it down the neck hole before the elves can see it. They'd be horrified. They eye me suspiciously then look at the ground. I just grin and take the big stick next to the tub and start stirring. I stir 'clockwise, not too slow, and for no less than 20 minutes!' just like I was told by the sniveling blonde boy. Draco seems to enjoy coming down to supervise, and he walks in a few moments later.

"Ello, prat." I call to him where he stands at the top of the stairs.

"Mudblood." He bites back.

"And proud of it." I reply sweetly. He scowls. "What's the matter? Don't like it when people are snots about their bloodlines?"

"I'm not going to grace that with an answer."

"Phew, thanks. I didn't want to hear you talk anyway."

"Watch your tongue."

"Or your father will hear about this, I know."

"You just make me insane sometimes!" He growls, rushing down the steps.

"I know; you're mad for me." I tease him, working him up because it's hilarious.

"Keep working!" he orders, trying to show superiority.

"Yes sir." I say, curtseying. He's infuriated, and he remains downstairs to watch me work until I've finished. I lay the pole back down and wipe the thin layer of sweat off my face and neck with my sleeve. "Done."

He's quiet and leaves quickly. I go to the kitchens and start my tasks there for preparing supper. A few hours later, when I take out the garbage, I throw the vial out with the vegetable peelings and trash. I whisper "Mischief managed" and grin to myself. Then I wash my hands and go upstairs to enjoy the chaos I mean, serve the meal.

In the dining hall, a table full of angry witches and wizards, all rumored to be Death Eaters, sit waiting for me in robes various colors of pink. One man in a particularly horrid shade of fuchsia stands up suddenly. I realize it's Lucius Malfoy and have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Draco, in a pale shade of rose, sits next to his father, fuming.

"Oh, sir, I'm sorry, did I miss a notice? Should I have worn pink also?" I ask innocently, trying my best not to giggle.

"No time for your games, Mudblood." He spits. "Draco warned me you were a prankster but I never- how dare you dye our robes pink?"

"Oh but I didn't sir. Draco watched me wash the robes this morning, he saw that they were still black when they came out of the water. I couldn't have done anything to them after that because I was helping with supper. Draco saw me."

"Draco!"

"I- I did see her, father. Mudblood's right, they were black."

"See? It wasn't me, couldn'tve been me."

"Silence! If it wasn't you, it was the elves. They're all fired! I'll hand out pink robes to them all myself!" He looks like he couldn't possibly get angrier.

"Oh dear. If you're firing the elves, I quit."

"You what?" Apparently, I was wrong. He's angrier.

"I said, if you're firing the elves, I QUIT!" I repeat, louder. "I guess that means you'll have to do the laundry and make the food and clean the house yourselves."

"I'LL KILL 'ER! I'LL KILL 'ER!" screams a crazy haired witch. She looks familiar.

"Bellatrix, no!" yells another witch. Oh, that's why she seems familiar.

"Ooh, yeah, best not kill me." I say, hoping I can talk my way out of this. "Killing an innocent Mudblood would sure seem like Death Eater activity, and none of you want those rumors flying about, do you?"

There is an angry murmur. "Go get the food, you filthy Mudblood." Lucius snarls. "Or I will let Bellatrix kill you."

"Yes, sir," I reply sweetly, with a curtsey. "Right away, sir."


	12. Rules 31 & 32

**#31: I am no longer allowed in the student laundry. Or the teacher laundry.  
#32: Nor am I ever allowed to cast an Invisibility Charm again.**

* * *

Remember the pink robe incident?

Well, Mr. Malfoy tattled to the school about it and I'm not allowed in the laundries anymore. How frustrating, because I've stashed many important objects and potions and things down there. And when I tried to gather my things through the use of an Invisibility charm, I accidentally turned my wand invisible too, and I should "watch where my wand is pointing at all times!" Rather difficult when the wand is _invisible_. Anyway, the result of my little expedition was a dozen accidentally released invisible rats and some also invisible Dungbombs accidentally dropped near the professor's lounge. When I was caught, I got detention for until I'd gathered all the rats and then some. Ugh.


	13. Rule 103

**#103: "42" is not the answer to every question on the O.W.L.'s.**

* * *

Satisfied with my answers, I turn in my papers and leave the testing hall. My last O.W.L. is finally over. I head back to my dormitory to eat a bit of my secret chocolate stache to congratulate myself on completing the assessments.

After a while I hear the twins and Lee barge through the Fat Lady's door, laughing, and I grab some more chocolate and rush down to the commons.

"Ello, boys!" I sing-song. "How do you think you did?"

They groan and grumble a bit before deciding they did alright. "You?"

"I think I did fine. Chocolate Frog, anyone?" we eat my chocolate and discuss pranks, of the past and the future. One of the cards is rather rare and we laugh maniacally and feign throwing it into the fireplace, but don't, and almost religiously, carefully, place it on the table for some little first year…or perhaps Ronniekins…to find. Then we away to the Great Hall for supper, and enjoy the lovely meal. Honestly, the four of us eat like elephants and between us I wonder how Hogwarts can afford food all year. After we dine, we sleep.

The next morning, at the end of Transfiguration, McGonagall reviews our O.W.L. scores. "The majority of you did quite well. The remainder did not, _Emma_."

"Sorry, Professor?" I ask. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You answered every question on your written O.W.L.'s with 'fourty-two'. You failed miserably." She sighed. "Here're your parchments."

"Oh dear." I look over my papers pretending to be disappointed. "I don't see why. 42 is the answer to everything."

"No. No it is not. No, 42 is not the answer to everything." She is exasperated and works herself up. I cut her off before she can get extremely angry.

I wave my wand across the page. The numbers grow and stretch out to show that I actually did write unique answers to each question. McGonagall just stares in disbelief. She wordlessly takes my test back, scans over my answers, and returns to her desk, checking them again. The class waits for a good quarter hour for her to finish regrading all my O.W.L.'s. Then she stands back up and passes out the rest of the papers to the students, leaving mine for last.

"Decent job, Jones. Just…never do that again. Please."

"Aww yiss." I say, pumping my fist in the air.

"What did you get, Emma?" Someone asks.

"O's." I say simply, putting my papers in my bag. The roar of mixed approval and surprise makes McGonagall wince and rub her temples and sigh when the hour is up and everyone rushes out of the room, whispering to their friends _Emma Jones, yeah, her, she got_ O's _on all her O.W.L.'s._ and their friends whispering back, _No!_ or _Really?!_ and the reply, _Yeah, can you believe it?_

I just grin. I'm craving some chocolate.


	14. Rule 76

**#76: If the thought of a spell makes me giggle for more than 15 seconds, I am to assume that I may not use it.**

* * *

"Oh, Merlin! Boys, I just had the greatest…" I trail off because the boys aren't there when I turn around. We got assigned to different study rooms. Luckily, study hour is nearly up, and I'll get to tell them about it soon. Unluckily, I'm stuck with a bunch of Ravenclaws that actually want to study. I try to read my book, but a phrase reminds me of my hilarious idea and I struggle to be quiet and not laugh. For the next fifteen minutes, I'm supposed to be silent, but I just can't, and my stifled snickers are annoying the Ravenclaws. They're all glaring at me by the time the hour is over. I gather my things and rush out of the room like a whirlwind, but not quite fast enough. Professor Vector catches me by the door.

"Emma, you've been laughing about something for the past quarter hour. I'd like to know what."

"Oh, nothing. Just a spell I'd like to try." I say, trying to both brush off her question and squeeze past her.

She blocks me. "Not so fast. I'll just save us all a load of trouble and say that you may not use any spell that makes you laugh for more than a quarter of a minute. You may leave."

Scowling, and more than perturbed that she set such a strict rule, I leave 7A as quickly as I can.


	15. Rules 7, 35, 43, & 101

**This is a combination of four shorter chapters from when I originally wrote/published this.**

 **#7: Seamus Finnegan is not "After me Lucky Charms"  
#43: I will not greet Professor McGonagall with "What's new, pussycat?"  
#35: Chemistry and Potions don't mix. Testing this last is not funny.  
#101: It is not a good idea to tell Professor Snape he takes himself too seriously. It is not a good idea to tell Professor McGonagall she takes herself too seriously.**

* * *

I dashed over to the line of brooms, which we were not supposed to touch without supervision. I grabbed the first one I could, and pushed off the ground with gusto. Madame Hooch came running after me, shouting for me to land. I couldn't though, couldn't, because Seamus Finnegan was on the ground.

I woke up in the hospital wing, Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall standing over me in anger. "Me…me Lucky Charms." I mumbled. How the hell'd I gotten here?

I guess I'd wondered aloud, because McGonagall answered. "Madame Hooch had to Stun you to get you off your broom and back on the ground. You have detention tonight at seven with Filch. And as I'm sure you've prepared a characteristically pitiful excuse, you may now tell us." She sighed.

"Seamus is after me Lucky Charms, an' he was comin' and I can't let 'im get me Lucky Charms! They're me Lucky Charms!"

Madame Hooch threw her hands in the air and stalked away. She'd reached the point that many of the other Hogwarts staff have reached, the point where she gives up on me and simply doesn't want to deal with me anymore. Professor McGonagall has reached that point but she has to deal with me, as I'm a Gryffindor. Her frown simply deepened. "You'll have detention with me, instead, Miss Jones."

Hippogriff muck.

Seven o'clock rolled around sooner than I liked. McGonagall had told me to come prepared with any of my homework that I wanted to work on. Seeing as I didn't want to work on any of it, it wasn't possible to do that. Instead I brought a blank roll of parchment and a few fresh quills to doodle with. I walked into the Transfiguration classroom at promptly 7:01. The Professor was sitting on her desk, in Animagus form. "What's new, pussycat?" I called to her, taking a seat as close to the door as I can.

In an instant, she's back in her witch form, and halfway across the room in a blink of an eye. Then she's looming over me. "Both your tardiness and your informality are inappropriate and I won't stand for it. Take your things to the dungeon. Snape will watch you for this detention."

To the dungeons I went, and I soon found myself sitting in the unfortunate position of front row in the Potions classroom, with Snape standing over me. I pulled out my parchment and began drawing. As I sketched, I hummed "Soft Kitty". After a few minutes of this, shadowed by Snape's scowl, he spoke. "Put it away, Jones." He drawled, "You are in my classroom, and you will get some actual work done."

I took a moment before actually listening to his instruction. When I had put away my parchment, quills, and ink, he handed me a list of instructions, assignments to complete. He supervised me retrieving a cauldron, ingredients, and tools, then took his leave, as he had business elsewhere.

When he was gone, I tried to do the work, I really did. But it was quite boring. I thought of the bit of Muggle science I knew, and figured it might be interesting to try mixing something like Chemistry with the Wizarding World's version of the same – Potions. And I began experimenting.

I got pretty caught up in my little sciencey things. The bubbles were crazy silly and fun and I barely noticed Snape come in to check on me. I didn't make much of a mess, I just made a lot of science. But apparently scienceing is frowned upon in the Potions classroom. I didn't realise it at the time, but Snape disappeared again quickly after he glanced in at my science.

I need to figure out how the professors communicate so quickly. My giggling came to an end, rudely interrupted by two equally frustrated professors glaring at me. If there's anything that can ruin a good science it is two angry professors looming over you.

"I will not ask, what you are doing, Jones." Snape drawled. "But I can-" McGonagall cut him off. "What Severus means to say is if detention is not punishment that will affect you, we will have to take more drastic measures. We have two options for you to complete your punishment tonight. I guarantee you won't like either. Do you understand?"

I couldn't help myself. I scoffed. "You two take yourselves _wayy_ too seriously. Take a chill pill, seriously. I think Lupin has some chocolate, if you want some..."

"ENOUGH!" Snape exploded, raising his wand. McGonagall, also obviously infuriated, didn't make any moves to stop him, which was uncharacteristic of the rule keeping woman. The Potions professor had a white knuckle grip on his wand, and he turned it in his hand a bit, clenching and unclenching his jaw. His permanent scowl was deeper than I'd ever seen it before. " _Fifty_ points from Gryffindor. And you will spend the remainder of your detention in Filch's office with whatever extra measures he deems necessary. I shall personally escort you."

Hex it. "Yes, _sir_." I said, trying to sound less sarcastic than I was feeling. The drama queen's outburst really just made me want to laugh.

He grabbed my arm not too gently and dragged me out of his classroom. McGonagall, under normal circumstances, would have stopped him, but she was simply standing, arms folded in impassive fury.

Lets just say I spent the rest of the hour twiddling my thumbs while handcuffed and chained to the floor.


	16. Rule 106

**#106: If asked in class what the Avada Kedavra curse does, yelling "It Does DEATH!" may be correct but it is not the manner in which one should answer.**

* * *

Today in Charms, we're learning about the Unforgivable Curses. Lovely. I hate learning about things I'm not allowed to use. Even though I'm known for rule breaking (actually its more like messing around and forcing the professors to do some rule making), I'm not stupid and I'd never use these three curses (though sometimes I'd like to…).

I wasn't paying much attention, until Flitwick called on me. "Ms. Jones, what does the Avada Kedavra curse do?"

Hoping to seem alert, I call out, "It does death." Only I call a bit louder than I intended and it comes out more like, "IT DOES _DEATH!_ "

Flitwick is not amused, though most of the class is. I say 'most of' because a Mr. Harry Potter's got his face wrenched up and Hermione pats his shoulder and he just starts bawling. Unfortunately, he begins to cry right after I whisper to Lee, "Here come the waterworks," again, louder than I meant to. Cue the punishment.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Jones, for answering in such an inappropriate manner, albeit correct." Louder sobs. "And fifteen back for my condolences, poor boy."

"Eh, could have been worse." I whisper, this time successfully, to my friend. He just shakes his head.


	17. Rule 165

**#165: My "quill-flourish-note-taking dance" is really unnecessary.**

* * *

"Get out your notebooks and quills, class."

We oblige. I open my book and choose an unbroken quill from my bag. I have to dig around a bit and Snape has begun talking when I've found one. I know I can get the notes from someone else, so I'm not too worried about missing the beginning. Which is good, because I also have difficulty finding an inkwell. When I finally fish one out of the bottom of my bag, I place it in the top right corner of my desk, make sure it's perfectly lined up with the corner. Then I take my quill and wave it around a bit before carefully dipping it in my ink.

Two minutes later, I'm as bored as a Niffler with nothing to niffle. I am barely paying attention, focusing more on trying to stay awake than on the lesson. My quill runs out of ink, and I go to dip it in the inkwell again, waving my hand like I'm the Queen in a parade. And suddenly I amuse myself every minute or so when I must re-ink, twirling my quill with more and more intricate wrist movements. Soon it spreads to my arm, swishing dramatically, and then my entire torso, leaning back and forth, and before I really think about it, I find myself pushing my chair back and standing up. Each time I need ink I begin to dance, first by swaying, my entire body moving fluidly in what the boys and I jokingly call my 'contemporary' dance moves. I rather forget I'm in class, and instead of taking notes I'm really just swirling my quill on the parchment and throwing in a few scratched letters for good measure. The ink blots awfully but I'm too caught up in my dance to notice or care.

What I also don't notice is the fact that Snape isn't speaking anymore and there is no lecture for me to be taking notes of anyway. He clears his throat and I look up, realising. I sit down, ready for the familiar questioning.

"What…are…you… _doing_ , Jones?" comes his drawling, annoyed voice.

"Oh, nothing. Just my little quill-flourish-note-taking dance."

"I assure you, it is completely unnecessary. Five points from Gryffindor if you proceed with this again."

"Alright, Professor."

He glares at me for a long moment, then turns around and starts drawling again. "As I was saying, the importance of temperature throughout the potion-making process is infinitely…"

Ugh. This is so…boring. And my quill needs ink.


	18. Rule 119

**#119: I am not allowed to declare an official Hug A Slytherin Day.**

* * *

I sneak up behind a particularly grouchy Slytherin and give her a quick squeeze. She _hisses_ at me.

"JONES!" I hear the unmistakeable sound of the Potions Professor's voice. I let go of the girl and she hurries away.

"Yes, professor?" I say sweetly, turning to face him.

"Come here." I oblige. "I believe I told you I'd take points if you hugged another Slytherin student today, Jones." He says as I approach. I don't stop at the usual, talking-to-a-professor distance, but step closer and hug Snape tight, my face pressed against his chest because he's so much taller than me. There's a strange smell about his robes, as if he's been brewing potions all day. Which I suppose he _has._ It's not a bad smell, but by his disgust you'd think _I_ was. He pulls back, ripping me away from his body. "What did I just say, Jones?"

"Sorry professor, you just always look like you need someone to hug you and it being Hug A Slytherin day and all I just couldn't help it."

"There is no such thing as Hug a Slytherin day." He says. "20 points from Gryffindor."

Later, I'm with the boys. "How many Slytherins have _you_ hugged today, Lee?" the twins counter after he laughed at the single digit numbers each confessed to.

"Twelve, thank you very much," he replys. "And one was Pansy Parkinson."

"Ahh, good job, how are you still even alive? What about you, Em?"

"Twenty-eight." I answer, nonchalant. "Pansy and Snape included." I remain calm but the boys blow up in laughter and approval.

Just when the boys' noise is at its loudest, Draco Malfoy and his two goons enter on the opposite end of the hall our staircase leads to.

"Who wants the extra points?" I ask. "I've got you beat anyway."

"Not me!" say all three of the boys, together. George makes gagging noises and Fred says, "I'm not hugging the slimeball."

"Potionsops." I walk down the last few stair steps, up to the annoying trio, and past the leader. I embrace one of the goons (I can never remember which is Crabbe and which is Goyle) and then the other, holding them as long as I can stand it, which isn't long.

"What are you doing, Mudblood?" the git asks me.

"It's hug a Slytherin day. Did I make you feel left out? Do you want a hug?" I reach out and hug him tight. He shoves me away. Then he glances at my boys and looks back at me, his sly eyes even slyer than usual.

"If you say it's Hug a Slytherin day, I think I'll declare Kiss a Gryffindor day. Starting now." And before I could decide exactly how to respond, he reached out and pulled my head to meet his. We're about the same height. He kissed me, rushed, but taking his time about it. It was a little disgusting, but also hilarious. I hear the boys storm up and surround him.

After a second he lets go and steps back, looking dazed. Fred grabs his robes and yanks him away from me, George wraps his arm around my shoulder and takes me down the hall while Lee stares at the goons, daring them to make a move. Then Fred and Lee catch up with George and I, mumbling something about Malfoy's pants. The three don't understand why I'm laughing so hard.

"Do you need a real hug now?" George asks me, like a big brother.

"Nah, its Hug a _Slytherin_ day, not Gryffindor."

Lee stops walking, so the rest of us do too, then he says, "Well it's Kiss a Gryffindor day, so…"

I just laugh harder. "Ahh, alright." I say when I get a breath. "I'll kiss you."

I kiss him quickly on the cheek. Then I kiss the other two before they can complain. They all kiss me back, on my forehead. Then we continue our walk, shoulder to shoulder, laughing about our Hug A Slytherin day stories.


	19. Rule 108

**#108: I am not authorized to negotiate a peace treaty with Voldemort.**

* * *

"Ms. Jones. What, may I ask, are you writing?"

"Nothing, nothing, Professor McGonagall." I reply, hoping she hadn't read who I'd addressed my letter to before I'd covered it up. The first line reads, "Dark Lord Voldemort," and I doubt she'd like that.

"Would you like to share your note with the class, Jones?"

"NO! I mean, no, that's alright." I answer nervously.

"Give it here." She sticks her hand out expectantly, and reluctantly I pass the parchment to her. Before she looks at it she speaks to the class, lecturing. "Passing notes is not what we come to school to do. You are here to learn, and within this Transfiguration classroom, I will not tolerate written conversations. What you need to tell others can either be taken care of outside of class or shared with all your peers." She turns her eyes back to the parchment, and begins to voice my words.

"Dark Lord Voldemort," she days, then trails off. She throws a glance at me, and I read it as I-can't-believe-you-I-give-up-on-this-cursed-student-what-the-hell. But she's promised to read it and that she does. "I write to you most respectfully in behalf of Hogwarts. I propose a treaty of peace, the terms of which I will out line below. First of all, we ask you hopefully will stop trying to take over everything and abandon your goal to cleanse the world of Muggles/Muggleborn witches and wizards. We'd also appreciate if you wouldn't be so mean to the Weasleys and families like them. In return, we will give you Neville Longbottom, because he was also born at the end of July. Also, we will throw in some Chocolate Frogs and I know a student who is willing to sacrifice his entire collection of cards which is almost complete. And personally, I'm not sure how everyone else would feel about this, but I'd give you Harry Potter too." McGonagall cuts off with the end of what I'd written so far. She looks ready to vomit, and she's choked out every syllable as if she can't believe its actually written out on parchment.

"It's just a rough draft." I say, snatching at it.

She doesn't let go of it, and it rips. Suddenly her senses return to her and she takes the half I've ripped off from me and continues to shred the parchment. "You, Emma Jones, of all people, are not authorized _nor fit_ to negotiate peace with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Voldemort?" I ask, as if it needs to be cleared up. "I'm sorry, I didn't know I wasn't allowed to try and save the world. I suppose that's Potter's job, isn't it. How rude of me to try to interfere."

"Forty points from Gryffindor, Jones, for your audacity and your sass. Class dismissed, I've got a pounding headache." My fellow Gryffindors seem half angry about the points, half relieved about early dismissal, and half entertained by my letter. I am just half furious that she tore up my hard work, and half excited to mess around with the boys in our unexpected freetime. Peace could come another time. For now, mischief shall rule.


	20. Rule 1

**#1: No matter how good a fake Australian accent I can do, I will not imitate Steve Irwin during Care of Magical Creatures class.**

* * *

Ah, Care of Magical Creatures. With Hagrid.

What a - _dangerous_ _-_ lovely class.

The boys and I listen with half an ear to our giant friend teach. Granted, we aren't as close to the hairy fella as the Golden Trio, but we like him well enough. Today we're working with the Skrewts. They aren't too big, but they've been growing and I don't really like the look of where they're going. Anyway, Hagrid suddenly bumps into and accidentally opens the box and one jumps out. The half of my brain that was paying attention is startled and the other half responds, "CRIKEY!", extracting smiles and laughs from the class. I go with it.

"Danger, danger, danger!" I say, especially because its running toward me. By a stroke of luck, I catch it with my dragonskin gloved hands and am able to keep hold of it. It's snapping and sparking, "What a ripper!" My Aussie accent is amazin'.

"Jones, put th' Skrewt down afore yeh get hurt." Hagrid tells me.

"The first Skrewt I ever caught was at fifteen years of age, and it was in class." I ignore him and pretend to be on camera. "My field is with magic creatures, hence your Skrewts, your thestrals, and your Nifflers. Crikey!" I yelp as the Skrewt squirms around and sparks directly at me.

"Emma Jones, please put th' Skrewt down an' stop it wi' yer accent."

"I'm a proud Australian, a very, very proud Australian, mate, don't jus' tell me ta stop talkin' Aussie!" I say angrily, forgetting in the moment that I am not, in fact, an Aussie.

Hagrid's frustrated in his slow, pleading way. "Emma, yer a Brit."

The Skrewt slips from my grip and falls to the ground. It takes the class a confused couple of minutes to get it back in the box. When it's recaptured, I decide to give it up, I've had enough adrenaline for the class period.

"Yeah, I'm a thrill seeker, but crikey mate, education's the most important thing." That gets a whole different kind of laugh, because everyone knows I could care less about my education. Hagrid changes the lesson plan for the day and we don't get out the Skrewts, so without even meaning to, mischief managed.


	21. Rule 157

**#157: Professor Lupin is not addicted to chocolate and I will stop implying that he is.**

* * *

So dementors have come to Hogwarts. They are so annoying, because the Marauders-point-two have to work five times as hard to keep everyone's spirits up. Seriously, _rude_.

On the plus side, Professor Lupin has recommended that each classroom be stocked with plenty chocolate to help students who've come too close to a dementor. Most other professors have listened, but the classroom with the largest supply is Lupin's.

The boys and I walk into Defense Against the Dark Arts and George notices Lupin slipping some chocolate out of his drawer and into his mouth. When everyone is seated, Lupin opens his mouth to lecture.

"Sir?" someone interrupts before he can begin.

"Yes?"

"Why's chocolate so important?" the person asks. "It's just sweets."

"Ah, yes. But chocolate is very useful in warding off the ill effects of encounters with dementors. I, for one, find it very comforting to have around." Lupin starts. "That chocolate works against dementors was discovered by wizards. _How_ it works was discovered by Muggles, believe it or not." He paused. "What dementors do is feed off happiness. They literally devour any peace, hope, or joy near them. Chocolate works oppositely, releasing _endorphins_ in the brain. Endorphins are nature's happy drug. I won't quiz you on the term but you should try to remember it. In terms of Muggle science, dementors absorb endorphins faster than the brain can produce them, and chocolate replenishes endorphins quickly. That's how it works. Now, for today's lesson-"

"Sir?" I raise my hand but don't wait to be called on. "Sir, you said it was a _drug_?"

"Yes, that's what I said. Are you going somewhere with this, Jones, or may I move on?"

"No, I'm not going to mention the supply of drugs you keep in your classroom. Carry on."

Lupin looks at me a moment in frustration but ignores my comment and begins his lecture. The students, however, caught my insinuation and stifled giggles bounce around the class. I don't think anyone takes his planned lecture seriously now.

After class, the boys and I set to work. Skipping our homework tonight, we sit and make pamphlets.

Next time we have DADA, we come early and prepared. Lupin isn't in the classroom, which is perfect. We spread the brochures on his desk and hurry back out of the classroom. We can't just ruin our reputation for near-tardiness.

When we reenter the room, many people are already seated, but the teacher still is absent. We take our seats grinning. Lupin walks in a moment later. "Class, open your books to the page we left off on last time."

We oblige as he goes to his desk. The boys and I pretend to flip pages when really we're watching for his reaction. He slowly scans the mess we've made of his desk, then picks up one of our masterpieces. "Alright. Who did this?" he asks, then reads aloud a few choice phrases. "'The first step is to admit you have a problem.' 'Chocolate can be an addictive drug if misused.' 'Ill use of chocolate can lead to severe consequences that affect one's family and friends as well as oneself.'" He looks up at the class. Everyone is giggling, and one poor soul is literally shrieking in laughter and that just makes it more hilarious. "I am not addicted to chocolate, Jones, and I'll take fifty points if you keep implying I am. For now, however, I'll give you five points for creativity. These pamphlets are lovely." His smile stretches across his scarred face.

"Oh, thank you sir. I knew you were my favorite professor for a reason." I reply, grinning just as wide.


	22. Rule 8

**#8: I will not reenact Harry Potter Puppet Pals in the Great Hall. Or anywhere else, for that matter.**

* * *

"Snape, Snape, Severus Snape." I say in a low drawl, trying to imitate both the real Snape and the video Snape. My parents sent me an overladen owl this morning, bearing several packaged puppets. I opened them squealing because they were my much coveted 'Potter Puppet Pals'. The first thing I did was slip the Snape puppet on my right hand and start singing the Mysterious Ticking Noise song. As no one else has seen the videos, except for a few Muggle-borns who won't admit it, I take responsibility for educating my peers in the most important musical breakthrough in all of history. I try to do the entire song by myself, and its not working very well, until Fred and George catch on and take over Ron and Hermione's puppets. Lee takes Dumbledore. I continue with Snape and Harry and we harmonize most beautifully for a full ten minutes before the real Snape approaches.

"What…are…you… _doing_ …Jones?" he demands.

"Would you like to see? We're demonstrating a most interesting Muggle invention for everyone."

"I would not like-" he begins, but I don't let him finish. Lee starts tapping his wand against the table.

"'Hmm. What is that mysterious ticking noise? Not over here, not over there. Kind of…catchy.'" I begin, moving little Snape around. "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape. Snape, Snape, Severus Snape."

"Dumbledore!" "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape." "Dumbledore!" "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape." "Dumbledore!"

We continue and Fred joins in with "Ron, Ron, Ron Weasley! Ron, Ron, Ron Weasley!" then George with "Hermione. Hermione. Hermione, Hermione, Hermione."

I pause Snape and bring in Harry. "Harry Potter Harry Potter. Oooh Harry Potter Harry Potter. Harry Potter Harry Potter. Oooh Harry Potter Harry Potter. That's me."

The real Snape is horrified. Then his puppet comes back in. "'Snape' 'Harry' 'Snape' 'Harry' 'Snape!' 'Harry!' 'Snape!' 'Harry!' ' _Snape_!' ' _Harry_!' 'SNAPE!' 'HARRY!'"

"DUMBLEDORE!" "Herrr-mione." And the harmony…then all of us together, "Singin' a song, all day long, at Hooog-waaarrrts!"

At this point, Snape's fuming. "Never…again…imitate this _atrocity_ in the Great Hall or I will confiscate your puppets!"

"Alright, Professor." I say, and he stalks off.

A few days later, after some practice with the boys, we set up a puppet stage and gather an audience and perform a rendition of "Wizard Swears". All is going well, until You-Know-Who stumbles into our secluded corner of the school. And I'm not talking about the Dark Lord, but Snape's pretty close. He sees the puppets and immediately spews a few of his own choice wizard swears, then with a flick of his wand destroys our stage and summons my puppets. They go flying from our hands to his, and he takes twenty points from Gryffindor before he storms off with my confiscated toys. I'm not too worried about the puppets; next time I'm in Filch's office I'll snag them back. What I worry is that Harry Potter won't win enough end-of-the-year points for us to win the House Cup. That would be unicorn turds.


	23. Rule 105

**#105: I will not use Slytherin and Gryffindor first years as Christmas decorations.**

* * *

It's nearly Christmas and the Marauders are behind on their homework.

We've nearly caught up, but we still have to practice Sticking Charms. We could have done it on time, but at this point, Flitwick says he'll only give us full credit if we do something _creative_.

Challenge accepted.

Fred and Lee are making flyers in the dormitory, George and I are hanging them in the hallways. They're magical, a simple spell makes them say one thing when teachers read them, another when most students notice them, and the important stuff is only visible to first years, specifically Gryffindors and Slytherins. And that important information tells those special first years to wear their House colors and meet in the Great Hall two days from now at an exceptionally early hour of the morning.

On the arranged day, at the chosen time, the Marauders meet in the Great Hall. Happy to see that many first years have already arrived, the boys spread our blueprint on a table and I get the shorties to line up by House, Slytherins on the right and Gryffindors on the left.

As more kiddies straggle in, they fall into line with their House mates and I check on the boys. "Ready?" I ask.

"Yeah, Fred and George are doing the Body Binds and the Sticking Charms and I'm levitating them and you can arrange them." Lee replies, reviewing the plan to show he knew it and to remind us all of our jobs.

"Got it." The twins say in unison. They scoot off to start their work.

"Alright," I turn back to Lee. "Don't let 'em go until you're sure I've got 'em, don't wanna get anyone hurt. Don't wanna get in trouble."

Lee looks at me a moment, then his grin spreads across his face. "You're tired, aren't you?"

"Shuddup." I say, slugging his arm. "So're you."

"Not nearly as tired as you." Lee says. "You stayed up too late putting the finishing touches on that blueprint, darling."

I blinked, but my tired lids wouldn't open again, how hard I tried. Okay, I didn't try _that_ hard. But my eyes were closed when Lee pressed his lips to mine. I actually barely noticed, I was so tired, but the twins together yelled "OI, MATES BEFORE DATES!" And that made me jump, knocking foreheads with Lee.

I rubbed my head and knew I was turning red. "You done with your charm yet, boys?" I call, trying to change the topic.

"Yeah we do." Fred says, and George adds in, "Why don't you get on it, Lee, and I mean the levitating not the-" Fred shoves him and he doesn't finish his thought.

"Yeah, yeah, right." Lee says, taking his wand off the table and leaving me alone. But I grabbed my wand too and with one last glance at the plan, I head off after him.

"Wingardium Leviosa." Lee got the first years in the air and I used my wand to guide them to just the right spot on one of the enormous Christmas trees that hadn't been decorated yet. The Marauders work for nearly half an hour and we've nearly finished sprinkling the red- and green- robed first years when the first Body Binding spells start to wear off. The kiddies are just glad to have a bit of wiggle power at first, but I don't think they realize how sticky Sticking Charms actually are. We don't have any issues until after the last shorty is dangling from a branch.

Two boys, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, perhaps a tad too close to each other on their tree, have started arguing over something. Their bickering gets louder and Fred realizes someone might hear, so I throw a quick Silencing Charm on the entire lot of them.

"That should shush them."

"Not for long, spread out over all of them. Let's go before McGona-kill-us comes."

So George grabs the blueprints and we run back to our dormitory. As we climb through the Fat Lady's hidden hole, we hear a shriek from the Great Hall and we breath a unanimous sigh of relief that we weren't anywhere closer to the mess. The boys go back to bed to squeeze in an hour of sleep before breakfast. I don't make it that far and decide to crash on a couch in the commons.

I'm awaken too soon by hot breath on my face. Half asleep, I wave away the offending particles with a hand, accidentally smacking at least two of the boys' faces. I open my eyes and see all three heads awaiting me. I slap their cheeks again, and one of them scoops me off the couch and sets me up on my feet.

"No. Carry me. I'm too tired to walk." I mumble, not expecting the obliging arms that obey my sleepy command.

And the boys walk toward our lovely meal room, beautifully decorated for Christmas. I don't know who's carrying me cause I didn't wanna open my eyes but he jostles me when he steps past the Fat Lady and, afraid he's going to drop me, I wrap both arms around him and hold tight; my right under his left arm and around his back, my left over his right shoulder. With my head resting on his left shoulder, I drift between sleep and consciousness until the boys reach the Great Hall and two voices, unmistakably the twins, tell Lee to put me down, "She can walk in."

He does, and I do. And the sight that awaits us is chaotically perfect. Most of the first years are still in the trees. The rest of the student body is eating breakfast and laughing about the unusual décor and watching the professors try to Un-Stick the kiddies. In the madness, no one notices our pyjama'd entrance. We slip into open seats at Gryffindor table and enjoy the insanity.


	24. Rule 77

**#77: I may not charm the words "Ferret Boy" on Draco Malfoy's forehead.**

* * *

"Ferret!" Fred coughed. The blonde Slytherin, Draco, flinched. The boys had been coughing or somehow making relevant to conversation that word ever since yesterday when Mad Eye had Transfigured Malfoy into that silly animal. Malfoy was apparently terrified of the word, and it was quite entertaining to watch his reactions. Fred coughed again just as we entered the Potions classroom. "Ferret!"

"Professor!" the boy whined to Snape. "These Weasley's and their friend have been teasing me all day!"

"Weasleys. Jordan." Snape drawled. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

"But Professor!" I protested. "Taking ten points is hardly fair when they aren't feeling well. It's just too bad that poor Draco is paranoid."

"Fine. But if I hear one single cough from any Gryffindor today, I'm taking points." He turned his back on us and I smirked. We took our lesson was simple, and we made our potion quietly. Though none of us four are any good at potions, we are decent enough to pass. We're better than Neville, that's for sure. We didn't want to risk making Snape mad, so we kept our mouths shut. Draco kept smirking at us, the little git. Ronnie, Harry, and Hermione seemed distracted, which I suppose can be expected when one of you is the Fourth Champion. Neville was at the brunt end of Snape's criticism, like always. I swear that man has some personal grudge against the poor boy. When class was almost over, I'd gotten tired of Draco's triumphant looks.

"Class dismissed." Snape finally announced. Everyone stood up and started filing out of the room. I pretended to dig around in my bag until Draco was just walking past me. I pointed my wand and quickly whispered a charm I'd made up. The sound was masked by the talking of the other students. Then I stood up and walked out of the classroom with the boys.

It was time for lunch, and the whole class rushed to the Great Hall. Lee, George, Fred, and I sat at Gryffindor table, waiting for the food to magically appear on our plates. Before it did, some girl shrieked. Everyone turned toward the sound…and realized it wasn't a girl, it was dear old Draco Malfoy. He'd caught his reflection in the silver plates, and finally notice the words on his forehead. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw all burst out laughing, but Slytherin was mostly silent. 'Mostly' because Draco himself was still shrieking. I couldn't help but admire my handiwork. 'Ferret Boy' was spelled out in big print letters for all to read. Well, all except Crabbe and Goyle, who were staring at their ringleaders head, trying to decipher the writing.

"WHO DID THIS? MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS!" Draco shouted. The teachers were slumped in their seats, shaking their heads, obviously not wanting to bother punishing me. Draco's eyes fell on me. "YOU!" he steamed accusingly.

I looked around and then pointed at myself. "Me?" I asked innocently.

"You. You did this." He fumed. "Professors!"

"Oh, five points from Gryffindor, Jones. Malfoy, shut up!" McGonagall groaned. I smirked, but Draco was infuriated.

"Only five points?!" He screamed.

"Yes. Only five points." I said. Then I turned back to my plate and whispered the counter charm into my food. The words disappeared and I considered this mischief managed.


	25. Rule 3

**#3: The Giant Squid is not an appropriate date to the Yule Ball.**

 **Postscript: reviews are always nice!** °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

* * *

"Boys! Hey, boys!" I call, running down the stairs from my dorm room. The three's heads pop up guiltily from behind the couch we turned to face the corner. I dash over to them, nearly tripping over some first years. I start to climb over our couch but then I notice the looks on their faces. They don't…want me. A little hurt, I say, "Nevermind," and turn around. I glance over my shoulder and their heads have disappeared behind the couch again. I steal borrow one of Hermione's many books as I walk past that girl and her two guyfriends and their stack of books. I shove aside someone's cat and sit down crosslegged in an old armchair, then open the book. Ugh, it's Pre-Arithmancy something or other. I pretend to read it and ignore the noise coming from the corner of the common room, wondering how much longer they'll be acting like this. It's been nearly a fortnight.

At some point I fall asleep, and I wake up to the twins tilting my chair back. I close my eyes again to dismiss the annoying pricks and suddenly feel myself flying forward. Involuntarily, my eyelids open. They've shoved the chair back upright. No one is in the common room except for me and the three idiots. "Bloody h- Whaddya want?" I sigh.

"We wants to know who you plan on going to the Yule Ball with." Fred says.

"Oh, no, Fred, that's not it at all. Lee?" George cuts in.

"Really, I wanted to know if you'd go with-" Lee begins, but I interrupt. I don't need them setting me up!

"Can't. Already been asked."

They're all blown off their feet. Hmph. Their expectations for my romantic life are pitifully low. Then all at once the twins start to talk, wanting to know who and when and making petty threats of what they'd do when they find out who had the nerve to ask me knowing they were my friends or something like that.

"Charles." Is all I tell them, and I stand up and walk away, up to the girls dorms, knowing they can't follow.

For the rest of the week, they pester me about my elusive "Charles". I'm proud to say I don't give them anything, and I just watch them get more and more frustrated. Then they start trying every method of bribery they know, and I take the bribes in exchange for vague clues that just confuse them more. They resort to paying other students to ask me about Charles, and soon the entire school knows about it. What no one can understand though, is how I can be going with a boy named Charles when there aren't any Charleses in all of Hogwarts.

Then we have Care of Magical Creatures with some Durmstrang boys. One of them whistles when me and the boys walk in, late because they were stupid and asking about Charles. I grin because the boys have a moment where all three of them are kicking themselves for not realising something. "He's from Durmstrang?" Lee asks, almost accusingly.

"I never said he wasn't. But I never said he was." The boys groan in defeat. "Oh, give it up!"

"Fine, we give!" George says for the three of them.

"It's the bloody Giant Squid, mates!" I tell them, louder than I'd meant to. I get the attention of everyone in the class- including the teacher.

"Wha's this abou' th' Giant Squid, Emma?" Hagrid asks me.

"Nothing, nothing." I say, shaking my head. "It's just, Charles is my date to the Yule Ball." I slip a glance and a sly grin at the Durmstrang boys, knowing it will bother my boys. The Durmstrangs smile and nudge each other in a guy-ish way.

"Yeh can't take th' Giant Squid ter th' Yule Ball." Hagrid replies.

"But, Hagrid, Charles asked me. I can't just turn him down!" I protest.

"Yer not allowed a date th' Giant Squid, plain an' simple." His voice is half wonderment and half annoyance.

"Aww, Hag-rid!" I start again.

"Back ter th' lesson please, Emma."

"Fi-ine." I pout. I notice out of the corner of my eye that the Durmstrang boys are whispering to each other. I don't bother to pay any attention to my boys.

After class, a particularly attractive Durmstrang boy approaches me, but Lee and the twins get there first. "So now that you're free for the Ball, can Lee ask you a question?" Fred says.

"Are you three going to avoid me ever again?"

"Is that what this is about?"

"Whaddya think this is about?" They don't have a response. "But I think this guy wants to say something too." I nod and smile at the Durmstrang boy.

He smiles back and asks, "Vhould you vhant to attend thee Ball vhith me?"

At the same time, Lee shouts quickly, "Emma-Rae-Jones-will-you-go-to-the-damn-Yule-Ball-with-me-you-stubborn-witch?"

I laugh. Lee's got his eyes squeezed shut, and the slow Durmstrang boy is taken aback. I push past my boys and walk up to the Durmstrang boy. Standing on tiptoes, I kiss his cheek and say, "Sorry, love, I'm not the girl who goes for looks. Hope you don't mind me turning you down for that stupid face."

"It ees quite fine." He says, face red; not in embarrassment, I hope.

I walk over to Lee and take his hand. He chances a peek and realises what I said, and hugs me quickly, then lets go; in embarrassment, I know.


End file.
